


Journey

by RoSH (RoSH95)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dancing, Panic Attacks, Poetry, Relevance of Time, Swearing, Violence, Zombies, gonna be honest with you, have fun losers, note to self, ohmyGOD the swearing, this thing is all over the place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 11:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11873601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoSH95/pseuds/RoSH
Summary: Its not about the destination. Its how you get there, the journey in between.





	1. Irrational Fear

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote these stories for my creative writing class. The ones featured here are the ones that I put in my final portfolio. They are my best work from the entire semester, so I hope you enjoy them too <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can hardly breathe, like you're sucking air through a straw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had severe social anxiety since early highschool. Its so bad that I can't even walk up to someones house without experiencing crippling anxiety. In this piece, I try to detail what its like to have a panic attack. To not be able to breathe and to feel like something is crushing your lungs. 
> 
> This is the first piece I wrote for my creative writing class and, other than a few grammatical changes, it remains much the same as it was when I first wrote it. Its definitely one of my favorites and I hope you like it too <3
> 
> Enjoy!

You can hardly breathe, like you’re sucking air through a straw. Your chest contracts painfully as your heart and lungs tie themselves into knots. Your heart is pounding and throbbing and beating too fast, but you can’t calm down. Irrational fear courses through your veins. And all the while, a constant mantra in your head says, “Smile. Just act like nothing is wrong. _Lie_.”

Sometimes, it’s enough just to convince yourself that you’re okay. But most of the time it’s hard to even move when the fear paralyzes your limbs and oxygen chokes your airways and the whole world narrows to just you and your terror.

Someone is trying to say something to you, but you can’t hear them. Your ears are clogged with the sounds of your heart pounding and your blood rushing through your veins.

“HEY!” the word cuts through your isolating thoughts like a dagger, dragging you back to reality for a brief moment.

You suck in a sharp breath of air and smell coffee. You remember that you were in Starbucks before this all began; before some creep--an older man who looked like he wanted to _eat_ you--leered at you and your thoughts started spiraling out of control. You blink once and look at your friend, who’s watching you, worried.

“Are you okay?” your friend asks.

You take a deep breath and plaster a smile on your face.

“I’m fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, comments are the lifeblood of authors so if you liked this story PLEASE leave a comment!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Note to Self

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sit down, shut up, and prepare to get learned a thing or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in middle school, I was a dramatic, attention seeking WHORE. I'm not kidding. I had a new significant other pretty much every other week and I went through boys like CANDY. Now, I look back at myself then and all I can feel is contempt for my past self. So when my professor had us write notes to our past selves... well, this one came pretty easy to me.
> 
> Enjoy!

Dear Past Me,

You are a vain, inconsiderate, cuntsucking little bitch. You think you’re  _ SO _ smart, but you know nothing. So sit down, shut up, and prepare to get learned a thing or two. Even if I can’t reveal what happens in the future for fear of fucking up the timeline, I can certainly rip you a new one for being an enormous douchebag. 

First off, calm the fuck down. Boys and dating aren’t the be all, end all of life. For fuck’s sake, take a relationship seriously for once in your goddamn life. And even then, know that whoever you’re dating  _ probably _ isn’t going to be the one you end up with. So don’t go around saying you’re fucking  _ engaged _ to so and so when you’re fucking  _ thirteen _ . And, whatever you do,  _ don’t _ date four different people within a month. Don’t. Fucking. Do. It.

Secondly, school and grades ARE important, contrary to your ignorant beliefs, so quit fucking around and ruining it for the both of us. Just because you want to be an art teacher--and I’ll spoil it for you right fucking now: in a few years, you won’t--doesn’t mean you don’t need to pay attention in your other classes you complete dumbfuck. 

Finally,  _ OHMYFUCKINGGOD  _ STOP WITH THE DRAMA!! You’re such a fucking drama queen I swear, it’s no wonder no one likes you. You do your stupid little drama act for attention because you’re an attention whore, but  _ get this _ :  _ Who fucking gives a shit what people think _ ? You’re you, and you’re the only one who gets to decide what that means. So quit fucking deciding it means “whiney ass bitch”!

I hope you leave today maybe a lick smarter and decide to  _ change your fucking attitude _ . Cause if you keep on the way you are, I’m gonna keep hating you. And, eventually, other people are gonna hate you too.

From,

Smarter, Older Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, comments are the lifeblood of authors, so if you liked this story PLEASE leave me a comment!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Tick Tock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are nothing more than a simple consciousness floating in the abyss of nothingness and everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece puts a lot of emphasis on the relevance of time. Its about an ethereal being that lives in a space outside the flow of time and protects the worlds within the time flow. This piece could easily be part of a larger story, so I may bring it back sometime, but for now you guys can enjoy it ;)

Tick. Tock.

Time doesn’t have much meaning here.

In the ‘Between’.

They aren’t so much aware of time passing as they are simply aware of their existence. Just as they are aware of the existence of hundreds of other worlds around them.

They don’t think of much while they’re in the Between. There is too much and not enough time to think. Time is irrelevant here. They are nothing more than a simple consciousness floating in the abyss of nothingness and everything. Waiting for a world in danger to call upon their help.

They don’t really know how long they’ve been doing this. They’ve lost track of how long it’s been since they were human. They don’t even know if there are other beings like them, or if they are a singularity, something unique in this vast dimension. They have certainly never met another like them.

They dream of the stars and the moon. They dream of the night sky filled with stars that burn like a million lighters. They dream of swirling colors of blue and green and orange--Aurora Borealis, they think.

Clockwork, they believe. The sounds they hear are clockwork. There’s a tick, and then a tock that drifts in the back of their consciousness. 

They wait in Between. Watching and listening for a world that’s falling apart, unable to piece itself back together. Too far gone for anyone to do it on their own. Somewhere they are needed. They are aware of all time and all space at once. 

And so, they are aware instantly when they hear a call of distress. They fix their consciousness on the world in danger and find the cause; a corrupted virus in the world, disrupting the flow of information, tearing a rip in the fabric of time and space that separates that world from another one. A dangerous situation, indeed. One that certainly calls for their interference.

They allow their consciousness to reenter the flow of time. They are going to take a little trip. It’s about time for them to come out of the Between.

Tick. Tock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, comments are the lifeblood of authors, so if you liked this story PLEASE leave me a comment!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rain pours down like the sky is weeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a type of poetry called an event poem. You take something and turn it into something abstract. I had a lot of fun writing this piece while staring out the window on a stormy day XD

Rainclouds

  1. Lie on the cloud. It’s a fluffy bed in the sky.
  2. Look at the cloud. It’s a dragon soaring high.
  3. Grab handfuls of the cloud. It’s cotton candy, sweet on your tongue.
  4. Feel the cloud. It passes through your fingers like sand.
  5. The clouds split open to pour tears on the earth.



 

The Sky’s Tears

  1. Watch the rain. It’s polkadots in the sky.
  2. Look at the rain. It’s the yin to the yang of the stars.
  3. See the rain. It’s the bringer of life.
  4. Feel the rain. It’s a cold shower on a hot summer day.
  5. The rain pours down like the sky is weeping.



 

A Summer Shower

  1. Step out into the rain and wait for it to dampen your hair.
  2. Look up at the sky and blink raindrops out of your eyes.
  3. Open your mouth to catch drops on your tongue.
  4. Stand there until you’re soaked to the bone.
  5. Move on with your life.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, comments are the lifeblood of authors, so if you liked this story PLEASE leave me a comment!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. A Fire's Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Throw the sparks in the sky to become the constellations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been a huge fan of poetry, but I LOVE this piece. Some of the imagery is so beautiful to me and I just love it. So I hope you love it too.

The Match Before the Flame

  1. Sharpen the match. It is a toothpick to pick your teeth.
  2. Look at the match. It is a tiny man, standing straight and tall.
  3. Glue several matches together. They are a miniature Eiffel Tower.
  4. Feel the match. It is a splinter stuck in your thumb.
  5. Strike the match to produce a flame.



A Fire’s Kiss

  1. Watch the flames. They dance like a tribal indian.
  2. Look at the fire. It's the Northern Lights in orange and yellow.
  3. Mix the ashes with water. It’s the black finger paint you give to your child.
  4. Feel the fire. It's the hot breath of air that comes before a kiss.
  5. Throw the sparks in the sky to become the constellations.



A Smoky Breath

  1. Watch the smoke. It's the ghostly presence of a lost loved one.
  2. Look at the smoke. It’s the fog that rolls through town before a storm.
  3. Capture the smoke in an orb. Its the crystal ball an oracle uses to see the future.
  4. Feel the smoke. It encloses around you like a warm hug..
  5. Listen to the smoke whisper secrets in your ear.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, comments are the lifeblood of authors, so if you liked this story PLEASE leave me a comment!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Dancer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When I was young, my grandma told me a story about how our people have many different clans in many different cities. She said that some sang for the God, and some performed instrumental music, and some acted. I left my clan to find the others.” She hesitates. “There are none left. In each city, I found only ruins and skeletons, and no one would tell me what had happened. You are the only one I have found.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read my other most recent story, you'll probably notice that this is the same piece. This piece is part of a larger story that I've been sitting on for a long time, so its definitely got that unfinished feel to it. However, its still one of my best pieces from the semester.

He sees a fire in the distance. Normally when he sees signs of other people, he turns and goes the other way. But it’s a cold night and he could use the warmth of the fire.

When he gets closer, he sees a figure moving fluidly around the fire, swaying hips and waving arms to a beat he can’t hear. Every time they move, the sound of sweet bells reaches his ears. Are they… dancing? He thinks they’re dancing. But it’s no kind of dance he’s ever seen before. In fact, all they’re really doing is spinning in lazy circles and moving their arms in grandiose gestures--almost like he does when he’s acting.

He steps right up to the edge of the circle of firelight and, here, he can see that the dancer is a young girl, maybe fourteen. She’s dressed similarly to him, in baggy grey pants that look at least a size too big for her and a black long-sleeved shirt with patched up holes. There’s a swath of purple fabric tied around her waist with little bells attached to it--the only spot of color on her. Her feet are bare, and she must have shoes around here somewhere, but he doesn’t see them. There’s a brown pack and a black leather jacket thrown off to the side.

He steps into the light and, almost immediately the dancer stops moving and turns to face him. In the flickering light, he can tell that her hair is black and her eyes are a stormy grey almost the exact same shade as his. It is… surprising, to say the least.

“Oh!” she says, and her voice is young and sweet like the bells jingling at her waist. “You surprised me. I wasn’t expecting to find company out here!”

“I’m just wandering,” he replies.

“Well, wanderer,” she says with a smirk that is entirely too much like his own, “you are welcome to share my fire.” She pauses and her smirk widens to a grin. “As long as you don’t mind my dancing.”

He shrugs, and she seems to take that as answer enough. She turns to go back to the other side of the fire, where her pack is, motioning him to follow. He steps further in towards the fire, relishing in its warmth. The girl starts dancing again, her bare feet making a _thump, thump, thump_ ing rhythm against the dirt.

He’s suddenly hit with the urge to sing and the words come unbidden to his mind. He hesitates for a moment, because even if he’s never minded sharing his voice with others, the last person who heard him sing was _Him_ , and he’s not sure he wants to share that with anyone else yet.

But the urge won’t go away, so he opens his mouth and softly begins to sing.

_The winds sweep away souls, and people snatch away hearts._   
_Oh earth, oh rain and wind, oh sky, oh light,_   
_please harbor everything in this place._   
_Please harbor everything in this place,_   
_and thrive in this place._   
_Oh souls, oh hearts, oh love, oh yearnings,_   
_please return to this place,_   
_and abide here forever._   
_The winds sweep away souls, and people snatch away hearts._   
_Nevertheless, I shall remain in this place_   
_and continue singing._   
_Please, somehow,_   
_send my song to where it must reach._   
_Please, somehow,  
receive and accept this song of mine._

When his song comes to a close, the girl, who had easily shifted her movements to the beat of his song, whirls around one last time before coming to a stop, one leg raised high behind her and arms outstretched toward the starry sky, as though reaching for something. She remains in place for a long moment before lowering her leg and arms and turning to face him, almost as though in slow motion. Her eyes are wide and bright with excitement, and her chest is heaving from the exertion of dancing.

“You have a beautiful voice,” she says, smiling softly at him, like she knows the words bring pain. “Thank you.”

“My people used to sing as an offering to our deity,” he offers her softly.

She approaches him hesitantly, as though he is a wild animal about to bolt, and sits next to him when he doesn’t move.

“What happened to them?” she asks, voice just barely above a whisper.

“There was a fire,” he says with a sigh, leaning back on his hands to look at the stars. “I was the only survivor.”

She doesn’t say anything, and he’s grateful for the silence. He doesn’t need pity or sympathy, it happened a long time ago and he was so young that he hardly remembers it. But the wound is still a painful ache in his heart, that not even time can heal.

They sit together in silence for a long time, until the fire is little more than ashes and coals and the moon is high in the sky.

Finally, she breaks the silence.

“My people are similar to yours, except we dance for our deity,” she says. “When I was young, my grandma told me a story about how our people have many different clans in many different cities. She said that some sang for the God, and some performed instrumental music, and some acted. I left my clan to find the others.” She hesitates. “There are none left. In each city, I found only ruins and skeletons, and no one would tell me what had happened. You are the only one I have found.”

“There were once others like us?” he murmurs, mostly to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, comments are the lifeblood of authors, so if you liked my story PLEASE leave me a comment!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Infected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there’s one thing you know how to do, it’s run like the fucking devil himself is chasing you. Or, in the post-apocalyptic world, like a horde of super-powered zombies are after you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The MASTERPIECE of my semester, the absolute BEST of my work! I'm stupidly proud of this piece, as you can probably tell XD
> 
> This piece is part of a larger novel called Gods and Monsters, that I will eventually get to posting for you nerds to enjoy ;p

If there’s one thing you know how to do, it’s run like the fucking devil himself is chasing you. Or, in the post-apocalyptic world, like a horde of _super-powered zombies_ are after you. Seriously. _What the fuck_.

On that note, you’re pretty sure you aren’t gonna survive this time, because the _idiots_ chasing you are unnecessarily noisy and probably drawing the attention of every zombie within a mile radius. If their stupidity wasn’t going to get you killed, you’d find it hilarious. Even you, with your marathon worthy speed and stamina, can’t outrun these zombies.

You’re not a science major, so you don’t really get it, but someone once explained to you how the zombie parasite works. Apparently, the parasite lives dormant in cows, so once humans eat the beef, it infects the human body. From there, it travels to the medulla oblongata, which you are told controls all automatic functions of the body, and takes control of the host body. On the way, it also damages the right temporo-parietal junction, which is apparently where the human moral compass is. Once the parasite has hijacked the medulla oblongata, it forces the host to spread the parasite, which is why the zombies attack humans. The person who explained it to you didn’t know anything more than that, so they couldn’t answer why the zombies have heightened speed and strength, but you don’t really care about the how’s and why’s anyways. All that matters is that zombies are super fucking strong and fast and they’re wiping out the human race faster than you can say “infected.”

You turn around a corner and curse your absent-mindedness when you realize you’ve run straight into a dead end. Judging from the hoots and hollers of you pursuers, they know it, too. Your eyes flicker from side to side, looking for an escape route, but there isn’t one.

“ _Shit_!” you curse, spinning around and whipping out your long knife, preparing to make a final stand. If these assholes don’t kill you, the zombies surely will, but there’s no fucking way you’re going down without a fight.

The three men chasing you for the last ten minutes crowd around the entrance to the alleyway. Their malicious laughter echos against the brick walls trapping you and you suppress the urge to cower. The man in the middle, the biggest of the three, carries a steel baseball bat while the other two wield a pipe and a switchblade. They stalk towards you with wicked grins on their faces.

“I’m gonna smash your skull!” the big one in the middle cackles, swinging his bat up to rest on his shoulder.

“Yeah!” the one on the left, with the pipe, crows. “You’re gonna get what’s coming to ya for tryin’ to steal from us!”

“Jeez I don’t understand why I can’t just shank him,” the one on the right says, flipping his blade in his hand.

“Well that’s ‘cause the zombies will notice if we make him bleed, ain’t it?” the one on the left says, looking to the big guy in the middle for support.

“With the noise _you_ idiots are making,” a new and unfamiliar voice pipes up, “I’d be surprised if they hadn’t _already_ noticed you.”

The three thugs whip around to face the intruder and you catch a glimpse of long white hair through the gaps between their bodies. Then, the man in the middle steps forward and it creates enough of a gap that you get a good look at the newcomer.

You can’t tell if they’re a boy or a girl based on looks alone. Their hair is long, sure, but they’ve got a slender, androgynous build and a chest that’s flat as your own. They’ve got one hip cocked, but not enough that it looks feminine, and they’re bracing their weight lightly on the stone quarterstaff they have planted at their side. They’re wearing a black muscle tank and black sweatpants with a green design on the left leg.

“Hah!” the big guy says, taking another threatening step towards the stranger. “Come to save your boyfriend?”

A slender white eyebrow arches and violet eyes dart to your figure, plastered against the wall at the back of the alley. The white haired stranger stiffens as their violet eyes land on you, recognition blossoming in their face.

“...Naira?” they whisper, and you feel hope blooming in your chest. You don’t recognize them, but they clearly know you. The stranger turned a glare at the three thugs and snarled.

“I changed my fucking mind,” they growl lowly. “I’ma beat your fucking asses into next fucking week.”

The three men standing between you and the stranger stand in stunned silence for a moment. They exchange a look after a long minute and burst out laughing.

“No offense, sweetheart,” the big guy says, and you watch as the stranger’s eye twitches, “but I doubt you could even land a hit on the three of us. Run along before you get hurt.”

You don’t even see them move. One second, they’re standing at one end of the alleyway and the next they’re right in front of the lead thug with their quarterstaff pressing against his neck.

“I am _no one’s_ fucking sweetheart,” they snarl, baring their teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, comments are the lifeblood of authors, so if you liked this story PLEASE leave me a comment!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
